


The Unlawful

by Tanith11



Category: Bonanza
Genre: Angst, Beating, Child Abuse, Family, Fist Fights, Gen, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Law Enforcement, Murder, Original Character(s), Robbery, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanith11/pseuds/Tanith11
Summary: The arrival of Marshall Slade McCoy throws Griff's life into turmoil. With Candy away from the ranch, who will he turn to when he is suspected of being involved in a crime he did not commit? Can Ben talk some sense into the Marshall and clear the ranch hand's name or will Griff's past continue to haunt him?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Romirola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romirola/gifts).



The tall, lanky framed young man wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his oak shirt. Tilting his head, he listened to the sound of horses signalling the arrival of visitors to the Ponderosa. Six months working on the biggest spread in Nevada and Griff King was finally able to call it home. Sometimes he wondered what he would do once his parole term came to an end. While he craved for freedom and the luxury to make his own choices without asking for someone's permission, he felt safe for the first time in a long time. Here, he had made friends among the other ranch hands with whom he bunked with. Of course, it had taken time and all the patience he could muster to finally earn their friendship and most importantly, gain their trust.

Planting the pitchfork into the mound of hay, Griff made his way out of the barn, ready to greet the visitors and tend to their horses. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to in recent weeks and he fell into it with ease.

"Griff! I'd like you to meet Marshall Slade McCoy and his associate, Mr. Howard," Ben Cartwright called out heartily, just as the lad walked out of the barn.

The patriarch of the Cartwright clan may as well have ploughed Griff in the gut with his own fist as instant recognition met the young man's blue eyes. Still, he put up a brave front, pushing his insecurities and fear aside as he strode out to meet the Marshall and his companion.  _Please don't remember me._  He extended his hand as he figured it was the polite thing to do and hoped that he would at least be given a reprieve from the judgemental prejudices that he usually had to endure each time he had the pleasure being in the company of a lawman.

"Griff King?" The Marshall raised his eyebrows as he shook hands with the young man.

"Yes, Sir," Griff answered with a nervous smile.

"Yes, I believe we've met," McCoy replied tersely.

"Oh? I had no idea you too knew each other," Ben chuckled, looking from one man to the next.

"Of course. I had the pleasure of bringing him in after he almost committed a murder. Ain't that right, Griff?" McCoy leered, clearly enjoying making the former convict uncomfortable.

"Slade, Griff here is on probation and he is under my employ. He's been nothing but a model citizen. Whatever he did is in the past," Ben cut in firmly but not unpleasantly. Slade was an old friend but Griff was a man who had atoned for his past mistakes and deserved a second chance. He wanted to make it clear where he stood. "Why don't you and Mr. Howard come in and I'll have Hop Sing fix us some tea. I'll have Griff look after your horses."

"If you don't mind, Ben, I'd rather Mr. Howard take care of our horses. They're a little nervous around strangers." McCoy handed the reins to his surly associate.

"I understand. I'll have Griff show Mr. Howard the stables and where he can water the horses. Griff, if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright," Griff replied, all the while measuring up Mr. Howard who stood almost as tall as himself but broader in stature. He definitely wasn't the type of man that one would mess around with. He also didn't strike Griff to be the kind he could engage in small talk which suited him fine as the young man preferred to keep to himself at times like these.

Mr. Howard gave Griff a quick and contemptuous once-over before following him into the stables, the reins of both horses clutched in his hands.

* * *

Once in the stables, chose a place to rest the horses. Out of habit, Griff reached up and started to unsaddle one of the mares when a vicious and calculated blow caught him in the side. An involuntary cry of pain and surprise escaped his lips as his knees buckled and he fell to his knees, clutching his ribs. He looked to see 's face inches from his own.

"Didn't ya hear the Marshall? Keep yer filthy hands off the horses, ya dirty con!" Mr. Howard spat before straightening up and rubbing his knuckles. "Move it!"

Griff slowly rose to his feet, breathing unsteadily. His hand curled into a fist, ready to strike but Candy's voice of reason held him back.

Mr. Howard laughed cruelly. "Just you try it, kid. It'll be my pleasure to put a hole in yer belly. No one's gonna be lookin' for yer body cause there ain't no one gonna care what happens to a con. Not even the Cartwrights."


	2. Chapter 2

The Oriental cook poured two cups of tea; one for his employer and the other for their guest.

After thanking Hop Sing, Ben then turned his attention to his friend. "It's been how long, Slade? Twelve years?"

"Fifteen, but who's countin' right?" McCoy chuckled heartily.

The two companions sat down and placed their steaming cups down on the table.

"So what brings you all the way down to Nevada?" Ben asked curiously.

"Unfortunately, business. I'm after a gang of bank robbers. Mr. Howard tracked them down this way."

"If there's anything my sons and I can do…"

"Appreciate it, Ben, but I think we got it under control. Speaking of which, I really should get going. I sent a wire to Sheriff Coffee a few days ago so he'll be expectin' to see me." McCoy reached for his tea and took several sips.

Ben leaned forward in his seat. "Listen, where are you stayin'?"

"I figured we'd check in at a hotel in town."

"Slade, we have plenty of room here on this ranch. You and your associate, Mr. Howard are welcome to stay. In fact, I insist," Ben offered with a smile.

"That's mighty generous of you." McCoy paused and rubbed his chin as he mulled Ben's proposal over. "Well, if it really isn't too trouble to put us up for a few nights?"

"You're both welcome to stay as long as you need to. I'll have my sons prepare the guest rooms for you."

Not a moment too soon after Ben's holler, Joe and Jamie raced down the stairs and happily greeted their visitor.

McCoy stood up and shook hands with Joe then Jamie. "Little Joe, your hair is longer than the last time I saw you! Other than that and a strong grip you got there, not a whole lot has changed. And Jamie? Ben, have you been holding out on me when you send me those letters over Christmas?"

Ben laughed and said, "No, nothing like that. Let's get you settled and we can go over the revised Cartwright family tree over supper later. What do you say?"

"I say it looks to me you've got a story to tell!" McCoy gave Ben a friendly slap on the back and winked at Jamie who shyly blushed as Joe ruffled his hair. "I'll go fetch Mr. Howard and let him know our arrangement. Thanks again, Ben."

"Don't mention it," said Ben. Little did he realize the trouble that was brewing and the impact that McCoy's arrival will have on the Ponderosa.

* * *

Griff's day went from bad to worse, when he fell behind in his chores and ruined his shirt. Still shaken up but not willing to admit it, the confrontation with Howard replayed in his mind throughout the day. He looked down at his torn and filthy shirt and shook his head. He was going to have to invest in another one but who knew when he would get the time to go into town. He rummaged in his sack and found a clean shirt. Shedding out of his dirty one proved to be a task in itself. He was weary and sore all over. He looked down at his tender side and winced at the sight of the angry bruise on his skin from where Howard had punched him that morning. He quickly dressed when he heard voices and laughter outside the bunk house.

The door opened revealing to Griff's utmost surprise, Howard, flanked by the guys he bunked with each night. They were laughing and carrying on as if they were long-time friends of Howard's.

"Hey, Griff! We was just tellin' Mr. Howard here how you whooped us in a game of poker last Friday night. Ain't that right?" Lucas called out jovially.

"Yeah, guess I did," Griff replied with a forced smile.

"Well, maybe he and Griff should…" Jake started to suggest that the two men should have a play-off but Howard, to Griff's relief, declined.

"Oh, that's mighty temptin' but I have an early start to the day tomorrow and the Marshall will have my hide if he catches me staying out late tonight," Howard responded with a grin.

"Ain't that a real shame," Griff muttered, locking eyes with Howard's steely gaze.

"What's that, boy?" Howard asked, cupping his ear mockingly.

"I said, that's a real shame," Griff repeated in a stronger voice. He knew he was risking riling up the man but he didn't care.

Howard let out a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. A round of goodnights followed. Griff made his anger and dislike known by turning his back on Howard without another word. Amid the commotion no one noticed the tension between the two men. Howard smirked and left the bunkhouse, vowing to teach the ex-con a valuable lesson when the opportunity presented itself.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Ben Cartwright assembled the ranch hands outside the barn and rewarded them with their day passes which they could either use to go out into town or to stay on the homestead.

"Hey, Griff," Lucas nudged his friend with his elbow. "Wanna hit the town tonight?"

"Can't drink, remember? Parole?" Griff reminded him.

"Dang it! How long you gonna be on parole for anyway?"

The younger man shrugged his shoulders, his attention diverted to Marshall McCoy and Mr. Howard who were discussing something quietly between them. He was so rapt that it took Candy's hand waving in front of his face to break him out of his reverie.

"I was wonderin' where you had left to," Candy commented.

"Sorry," Griff mumbled, shaking his head.

"Listen, I wanted to ask if you could do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"I know it's meant to be your day off but I have to leave for a couple of days. Mr. Robinson over near Reno needs some help with one of his fences. Could you go into town and take this package to Mrs. Walters store for me? She's expectin' it."

Griff looked at the tightly bound package, curiosity getting the better of him as he asked, "What's in it?"

Candy shuffled his feet, nervously. "Books."

"Books?" Griff repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's right. You know,  _books_."

"I know what they are. I just didn't know you read 'em."

Candy shrugged and laughed. "Not as well as you but hey, I'm getting' there. Now, are you gonna return these for me or stand there gawkin', huh?"

"Yeah, I gotta go into town anyway and get me some new clothes," Griff replied nonchalantly and smiled, hoping that Candy couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. He hated not having Candy around to confide in. He still felt like an outsider trying to fit in and each time Candy had to leave on business, he felt his confidence waning because he knew there was no one better than his best friend to keep him grounded. No one to guide him through his mistakes and to make things right again. Now of all times, with the Marshall staying for who knows how long at the ranch with his lap dog, Mr. Howard, Griff felt like a dark cloud had just settled over his head. All he needed now was the storm to brew and the rain to fall.

Noticing the youth was preoccupied with something that was obviously troubling him, Candy placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just ah…just…," Seeing no other way around it, Griff blurted out what was weighing heavily on his mind. "How long does the Marshall have to stay here?"

All too familiar with the young man's discomforts whenever a lawman happened to be around, Candy replied in a low voice, "The Marshall's an old friend of Mr. Cartwright's. No, I don't rightly know how long he'll be hangin' around here for but he is staying as a guest. It's not like he'll be livin' here permanently."

Griff shuffled his feet uncomfortably, breaking eye contact with foreman.

"Griff, listen to me. He's not after you."

Griff's head whipped up, no longer able to contain his insecurities. "How do you know that?"

"Because, not every lawman that passes through here is going to be after Griff King!" Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, he added in a firm tone, "No one is after you. _No one_. You hear me?"

Unconvinced Griff whispered harshly, "But he knows I'm on parole, Candy!

Candy threw his hands out in the air in exasperation. "So?"

"What if he was sent here to take me back to prison?"

Candy put his hands on his hips. "No one is carting you back to prison. You've done nothing wrong. Are you listening to me? You've done nothing wrong. Look, I'm only gonna be gone for a couple of days. By the time I get back, the Marshall will have gone and everything will be back to normal. Until then, just do your job, finish your chores and stay out of the Marshall's way. He's got more important things to worry about than you being on parole and probably already forgotten you exist. Okay?" He gave Griff's arm a friendly pat.

Griff sighed and nodded even though his worst fears were still hovering right beneath the surface. "Okay. Okay."

"Alright, I better get goin'. I'm gonna saddle up. I've got a long ride ahead of me and I wanna get to Reno before it gets dark. Sure you're alright?"

Knowing that whatever he said was not going change the fact that Candy had someplace else to be, Griff did his best to sound convincing. "Yeah, m'alright." He wanted to tell Candy about his run-in with Mr. Howard the previous day, but he clamped his mouth shut. He figured he was only going to sound paranoid and despite being reminded of it by the painful twinge of the bruise that Howard left on him, the last thing he wanted was to cause any trouble for Candy. He also certainly didn't want to appear like he was making a big deal over a small bruise that he could've easily gotten any other day working on the ranch.

"Good. You take care of yourself, you hear? I'll be back before you know it."

Leaving Griff alone to his thoughts, Candy ignored the uneasy feeling settling in his gut that his young friend was far from alright. Although Griff had made good steady progress to blend in at the Ponderosa and in town during the course of the months he had been out of incarceration, there was no denying that the process was slow going and frustrating for himself and for Griff, as well as for Ben Cartwright. Still, there was no way they were going to quit on the boy, not after the months they'd grown to know him and saw him trying his damndest to fit into society again. With a little more time and patience, Candy held on to the hope that someday soon Griff will finally find his place outside of iron bars and locks. Until then, he promised himself that he would do everything he could to help Griff adjust to his new found freedom and believe in himself the way others would if he could only find it in himself to let them.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Ben Cartwright assembled the ranch hands outside the barn and rewarded them with their day passes which they could either use to go out into town or to stay on the homestead.

"Hey, Griff," Lucas nudged his friend with his elbow. "Wanna hit the town tonight?"

"Can't drink, remember? Parole?" Griff reminded him.

"Dang it! How long you gonna be on parole for anyway?"

The younger man shrugged his shoulders, his attention diverted to Marshall McCoy and Mr. Howard who were discussing something quietly between them. He was so rapt that it took Candy's hand waving in front of his face to break him out of his reverie.

"I was wonderin' where you had left to," Candy commented.

"Sorry," Griff mumbled, shaking his head.

"Listen, I wanted to ask if you could do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"I know it's meant to be your day off but I have to leave for a couple of days. Mr. Robinson over near Reno needs some help with one of his fences. Could you go into town and take this package to Mrs. Walters store for me? She's expectin' it."

Griff looked at the tightly bound package, curiosity getting the better of him as he asked, "What's in it?"

Candy shuffled his feet, nervously. "Books."

"Books?" Griff repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's right. You know,  _books_."

"I know what they are. I just didn't know you read 'em."

Candy shrugged and laughed. "Not as well as you but hey, I'm getting' there. Now, are you gonna return these for me or stand there gawkin', huh?"

"Yeah, I gotta go into town anyway and get me some new clothes," Griff replied nonchalantly and smiled, hoping that Candy couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. He hated not having Candy around to confide in. He still felt like an outsider trying to fit in and each time Candy had to leave on business, he felt his confidence waning because he knew there was no one better than his best friend to keep him grounded. No one to guide him through his mistakes and to make things right again. Now of all times, with the Marshall staying for who knows how long at the ranch with his lap dog, Mr. Howard, Griff felt like a dark cloud had just settled over his head. All he needed now was the storm to brew and the rain to fall.

Noticing the youth was preoccupied with something that was obviously troubling him, Candy placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just ah…just…," Seeing no other way around it, Griff blurted out what was weighing heavily on his mind. "How long does the Marshall have to stay here?"

All too familiar with the young man's discomforts whenever a lawman happened to be around, Candy replied in a low voice, "The Marshall's an old friend of Mr. Cartwright's. No, I don't rightly know how long he'll be hangin' around here for but he is staying as a guest. It's not like he'll be livin' here permanently."

Griff shuffled his feet uncomfortably, breaking eye contact with foreman.

"Griff, listen to me. He's not after you."

Griff's head whipped up, no longer able to contain his insecurities. "How do you know that?"

"Because, not every lawman that passes through here is going to be after Griff King!" Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, he added in a firm tone, "No one is after you. _No one_. You hear me?"

Unconvinced Griff whispered harshly, "But he knows I'm on parole, Candy!

Candy threw his hands out in the air in exasperation. "So?"

"What if he was sent here to take me back to prison?"

Candy put his hands on his hips. "No one is carting you back to prison. You've done nothing wrong. Are you listening to me? You've done nothing wrong. Look, I'm only gonna be gone for a couple of days. By the time I get back, the Marshall will have gone and everything will be back to normal. Until then, just do your job, finish your chores and stay out of the Marshall's way. He's got more important things to worry about than you being on parole and probably already forgotten you exist. Okay?" He gave Griff's arm a friendly pat.

Griff sighed and nodded even though his worst fears were still hovering right beneath the surface. "Okay. Okay."

"Alright, I better get goin'. I'm gonna saddle up. I've got a long ride ahead of me and I wanna get to Reno before it gets dark. Sure you're alright?"

Knowing that whatever he said was not going change the fact that Candy had someplace else to be, Griff did his best to sound convincing. "Yeah, m'alright." He wanted to tell Candy about his run-in with Mr. Howard the previous day, but he clamped his mouth shut. He figured he was only going to sound paranoid and despite being reminded of it by the painful twinge of the bruise that Howard left on him, the last thing he wanted was to cause any trouble for Candy. He also certainly didn't want to appear like he was making a big deal over a small bruise that he could've easily gotten any other day working on the ranch.

"Good. You take care of yourself, you hear? I'll be back before you know it."

Leaving Griff alone to his thoughts, Candy ignored the uneasy feeling settling in his gut that his young friend was far from alright. Although Griff had made good steady progress to blend in at the Ponderosa and in town during the course of the months he had been out of incarceration, there was no denying that the process was slow going and frustrating for himself and for Griff, as well as for Ben Cartwright. Still, there was no way they were going to quit on the boy, not after the months they'd grown to know him and saw him trying his damndest to fit into society again. With a little more time and patience, Candy held on to the hope that someday soon Griff will finally find his place outside of iron bars and locks. Until then, he promised himself that he would do everything he could to help Griff adjust to his new found freedom and believe in himself the way others would if he could only find it in himself to let them.


	5. Chapter 5

The instant Griff rode into town, he knew something was wrong. A crowd could be seen gathered in front of the Sheriff's office. His chest tightened and he twisted the reigns through his hands until they were cutting off the circulation to his fingers. He took a deep breath, slowly loosened his hold on the reigns and pressed forward. As he drew closer to the centre of town, Griff tore his eyes away from the milling crowd and tried his best to look disinterested.  _Just keep ridin'. Don't look. There's nothing to see. Just get to the bookstore._

When he reached the end of the street, the young ranch hand dismounted from his horse and tied the reigns to the post outside of the only bookstore in town. Clutching the package Candy had entrusted him to deliver, Griff pushed the door open and walked in. The tinkling of a bell alerted Mrs. Walters that she had a customer.

"Good morning, dear. How can I help you?" Mrs. Walters warmly greeted the stranger who had just entered her store.

Although Griff had accompanied Jamie and Ben to the store before, he'd never actually stepped foot inside it. There were very few places in town that he had visited and those were limited to the store where Mr. Cartwright had purchased his clothes, the general store, the sheriff's office and the post office.

"I…um…I came to return these," Griff stuttered. "M'am." He reached up and removed his hat.

Mrs. Walters, a kind, handsome woman in her middle years with jet black hair tied in a bun, smiled up at the youth and took the package from him. She pulled the bindings free and recognition crossed over her lightly creased features. "Mr. Canaday sent you?"

"Yes, m'am." Griff wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and started to back himself toward the door.

"You must be Griff!" Mrs. Walters beamed.

Griff froze where he stood. Usually when people remembered his name, it was because they associated him with his criminal past.

"Mr. Canaday's told me about you. Said I should be expectin' you to walk into the store one day."

"He did?" Griff said in a choked voice.

"He told me you liked to read. Is that true?"

Griff cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, m'am."

"Well, I have something that you may like. Wait here," Mrs. Walters disappeared between two rows of bookshelves.

Beginning to feel at ease, Griff's shoulders started to relax as he took in the library of reading material that lined the walls and shelves. He'd never seen so many books in the one place before. For the first time in days, a smile crept over his face.

"Here." Mrs. Walters returned, startling the young man out of his reverie. She let out a chuckle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, dear." She held out a hard cover volume for Griff to take. "Go on."

"I can't. I…"

"It's for Mr. Canaday. I still owe him for fixin' the leak in the roof and for the chores he helped me with when Mr. Walters passed away. God rest his soul." A far-away look crossed over Mrs. Walters' features. With a slight shake of her head, she broke out of her trance and continued, "Since Mr. Canaday told me he was going to be away for a couple of days, why don't you read it first? Give it to him when he returns and tell him, it's his so long as he brings you back here next time." A broad grin broke out on her face.

"Thank you. I'll…I'll tell him." Griff took the book, placed his hat back on his head and backed away toward the nearest exit. "M'am." Before he could turn to open the door, it flew open and he fell back against a table, knocking down a vase.

"Watch it, kid!" A gruff voice barked. "Hey, ain't you that con livin'and workin' on Cartwright's ranch?"

Griff was too embarrassed and busy apologizing to Mrs. Walters and helping her pick up the broken pieces of the vase that he didn't quite catch the man's words.

The man reached down and roughly pulled Griff to his feet by the front of his shirt. "Are you deaf?"

"Gus! Leave him be," Mrs. Walters admonished. "You startled him, is all."

With one last contemptuous look at the youth, the burly, stubble faced man released Griff.

"What's goin' on out there, Gus?" Mrs. Walters asked, more to distract Gus from the young man than to be a busy-body.

"A gang blew a hole outta the Wells Fargo late last night. Sheriff won't tell us how much of our money they got away with. Killed Cooper too. Shot him in the neck!" Gus relayed in disgust.

Griff took the opportunity to try and leave the store unnoticed but a vice-like grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"Did you have somethin' to do with it, boy? You know there's talk on the streets about ya. Even Clem don't trust ya and I don't blame him!" Gus snarled into the youth's face.

Griff's patience was running thin and his fear was morphing into anger. He stood his ground and locked eyes with Gus, letting the older man know he was not going to be intimidated.

"Now hold on a minute, Gus. I'll have none of this talk in my store. Let the boy go on his way. He's done nothing wrong." Mrs. Walters continued to defend Griff.

The door opened once more, revealing a bespectacled face of a blond teen. "Hey y'all better come out quick. Sheriff wants to hold a town meeting right now!"

Griff let out the breath he'd been holding and visibly relaxed when Gus released his arm.

"We ain't finished, boy," Gus sneered before leaving the store.


	6. Chapter 6

With his head down and his pace kept at a fast stroll, Griff guided his horse through the town centre, keeping as close to the shadows of the buildings as possible to avoid unwanted attention. However, as he passed a street corner, curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head ever so slightly toward the gathering of townsfolk outside the sheriff's office. It was clear that the atmosphere was a combination of outrage and mourning. Right now, this was a hazardous place for an ex-con. Just as Griff tore his gaze away from the congregation, his body collided into something who gave a squeal of fright. Caught by surprise, the young ranch hand also gave a yelp and nearly lost his balance. He looked down and felt his heart skip a beat. A pretty young woman was propped up by her elbows on the ground. If she hadn't been glaring at him, Griff thought she had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. With a blink, he pushed away his thoughts and cleared his throat then reached down and offered her his hand. "I'm sorry, m-m'am. I didn't see you."

"Of course not. You really should pay more attention to where you're going, Mister!" The lady snapped waspishly.

Embarrassed, anxious and irritated by the young woman's lack of empathy, Griff clamped his mouth shut to refrain losing his manners. It quickly became apparent that she wasn't going to accept his apology or his attempts to atone for his mistake but before he had the chance to retract his arm, a hard shove from the side sent him crashing against his horse's flank and down on his knees. The startled animal snorted harshly and only Griff's quick reflexes saved him from its lethal hooves as it started to become unsettled. Rolling to his feet, he gripped the reins tightly and focused his attention on calming the horse down.

"You keep yer filthy hands off her, ya hear!"

Griff ignored the threat that no doubt came from the culprit who had pushed him to the ground. This is not my day. Again.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"

This time, Griff felt the air shift behind him rather than saw the blow heading his way. Ducking his head, he easily evaded a fist, allowing him time to raise his own. Twisting his body around he struck the cowboy solidly in the gut and though he had the chance to strike again, Griff fought the urge to do more than defend himself. He stood his ground in a fighting stance, breathing heavily from the sudden adrenaline rush that pumped through his veins.

The crowd that had been milling around the sheriff's office had their attention diverted to the fight nearby when several of the younger men started to branch out to form a semi-circle around the scuffle taking place.

Two of the cowboys who arrived at the scene helped the young woman to her feet, but she shook herself away from them when they started to get too friendly with their molly-coddling.

To Griff's dismay, the woman wrapped a caring arm around his assailant's waist as he straightened up and gave Griff one last look of contempt before leading her man away from the small crowd of onlookers.

"Come on, Zeke, don't go startin' trouble on my account," the young woman said in a low voice so that only Zeke could hear. She tightened her grip on his arm but he pried her fingers off him.

"Don't you start tellin' me what to do, Betty!" Zeke snapped, silencing the young lady beside him.

The crowd had expected a brawl to break out and through their disappointment, two of the young men moved into the semi-circle, backing Griff's tall frame into an alley.

"Alright, break it up, boys! Troy, Levi, wanna tell me what's goin' on?" Deputy Clem Foster called out from behind the semi-circle.

"I'll tell ya what's goin' on. That con just attacked Zeke and Betty!" the cowboy named Troy retorted, pointing his finger at the dark haired youth.

Although Clem had his own personal misgiving regarding the circumstances of Griff's parole, Troy and Levi were well known troublemakers and it was highly likely that Griff wasn't at fault this time. "Is that true, Griff?"

Without a second's thought, Griff's anger got the better of him. "Yeah, that's right! Just like I near killed my step-father and robbed the Wells Fargo Bank and whatever other crimes this Godforsaken town wants to pin me for!"

A part of Clem wanted to hit Griff for his outburst at a time when tensions were already high but his conscience placed him in the younger man's shoes and he couldn't help feel a level of shame creeping up his neck. Turning his attention to the remaining onlookers instead, he ordered, "Alright, the show's over. Troy, Levi, go home. Go on!" Once the murmuring few had turned their backs and went on their way, Clem locked eyes with Griff.

"What? You're gonna arrest me?" Griff said heatedly.

"Go home, Griff," Clem replied with a sigh then walked away.

Griff dropped his gaze and it was then that he realized he had dropped the book that Mrs. Walters had given him at the store. Picking it up, he brushed off the loose dirt and slipped it into his saddle bag then mounted his horse. The morning's events weighed heavily on the ranch hand's mind and all he wanted to do was take a long ride before heading back to the Ponderosa; his main purpose for the journey into town abandoned.  _Guess I'll just make do with the clothes I have, while I still have the freedom to keep 'em._


	7. Chapter 7

Nightfall arrived sooner than Griff had anticipated. He had ridden to the lake and basked in the solitude the wilderness provided. Away from accusing stares and words spoken to him in contempt, the young man felt at peace as he let the hours pass him by while he read the novel that Mrs. Walters had entrusted him to keep for Candy. Now with the sun dipping low below the horizon, he figured it was too late to ride back to the ranch and decided he would sleep under the stars. His stomach growled and he thought longingly about Hop Sing's cooking, realizing that apart from some beef jerky during the ride, he hadn't eaten since breakfast. With a sigh, Griff marked where he had left the story by placing a feather between the pages of the book then lay himself down under the tree and used his saddle as a pillow. It didn't take long for his tired eyes to droop shut.

Unbeknownst to the young man were a pair of eyes watching from a distance then disappearing into the night.

* * *

Slade McCoy paced the guest room in the Cartwright home until at last a knock on the door followed by Mr. Howard's voice greeted his ears.

"Well?" McCoy demanded impatiently once his associate entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"He's in the woods, sleeping under the stars. Didn't even bat an eyelid, stupid kid," Mr. Howard scoffed.

"That may very well play to our advantage. After all, who can vouch for his whereabouts but the wilderness? The more time he spends away from the ranch, the stronger the temptation will be for him to slip up and break the law. I know his kind only too well. And what of my son?"

"Hidin' out on the outskirts of town, probably waitin' for the rest of the gang to show up."

"Foolish boy!" McCoy cursed his son for the ill-fated choices he made in his life. Ever since the fever took away Aaron's mother, their relationship had been strained then over the last couple of years, the boy had started to find himself caught up in more trouble than McCoy could handle. He vowed to bring his son home at all costs and to straighten the boy out. If it meant that someone else would have to take the fall then so be it. Particularly when it was going to be someone who had cheated justice. After all, who would believe a con over the son of the US Marshall? McCoy thought darkly.

An unexpected knock on the door abruptly ended their conversation.

"Yes?" McCoy called out, politely.

Ben Cartwright poked his head in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No, not at all. Please come in," McCoy reassured, although in truth he thought the rancher could've picked a more favorable time.

"I wanted to bid you both a good night and to make certain that the tack room is going to be sufficient to accommodate Mr. Howard." Making eye contact with McCoy's companion, Ben added, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in Adam's room? It can get a little drafty in the tack room."

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I'm grateful for your concern, however, I assure you I'd be more comfortable in the tack room. Old habits. I grew up on a ranch just like this and I always slept better when I'm closer to the horses," lied Mr. Howard. In truth his sole purpose was to keep a watchful eye on one Griff Kinng. Staying in the ranch foreman's tack room allowed him easy access and a clear view of the ranch hands' bunkhouse.

"Very well. If you insist, I'll breathe no more word about it. If there's nothing else either of you need, I'll bid you both a good night. It's payroll tomorrow so an early start for me and Joe."

"Thanks, Ben. You've done us a great favor by accommodating us. Sleep well," McCoy returned the gesture with a friendly slap to Ben's shoulder.

"Good night, Mr. Cartwright," Mr. Howard followed suit. "And you too, Mr. McCoy. I best let you get some much needed rest."

"Yes, Mr. Howard, I think we have both earned it," Slade slyly returned the greeting.

Once Mr. Howard and Ben left the room, McCoy decided to settle in for the night. There was much to think about in relation to his son, but he knew he needed to be patient. He believed in the saying that all good things come to those who wait. With Griff King playing right into his hands, all he needed to do was keep his boy from making any more foolish mistakes; a hardship he was determined to overcome at all costs. He'd already lost his wife, Jane. The thought of losing the last link he had with his wife, not to mention the humiliation the family name would have to bear, was a consequence he could not live to endure.

* * *

Camped out between the rock formations away from the main road well outside of town, Aaron McCoy jumped up from his bedroll with his gun in hand at the sound of two horses approaching.

"Easy there, McCoy!"

"Don't call me that, Troy or I'll put a hole in ya!" Aaron hissed angrily. For the young man, McCoy was his father's name and he did not want to be associated with a man he bore a deep hatred for. His law abiding and seeker of justice father, Marshall Slade McCoy, was dead to him.

The sandy haired young man dismounted from his horse, ignoring the riled up youth. His companion, a heavier and taller cowboy also climbed down from his perch in the saddle.

"Where's Zeke?" Aaron demanded.

"Romeo's busy with that Allman gal. Said he'd meet us at first light," the larger youth answered. "You know, he's slowin' us down. Once we pull that job in Carson City, I'm goin' straight to Reno. I ain't comin' back to this town. If he wants ta come back, I say we cut our losses. I'm sick and tired of him telling us what to do while he sleeps in that big house and we're stuck out here. Besides, it's only a matter of time before the law catches up to us if we keep on comin' home after a job."

Aaron nodded in agreement. "Only a matter of time before Allman finds out his daughter's bedding a good fer nothin' cowpoke. It'll serve him right too."

"Well I ain't gonna wait that long! Allman's blind as a bat when it comes to Betty."

"What are you sayin', Levi?" Troy questioned suspiciously.

"Tomorrow, I'm gonna set the record straight. Zeke's gonna have ta do things our way from now on or there's gonna be an extra share of the loot for the rest of us. Do either of you have a problem with that?" Levi proposed none too kindly then added, "Cause I've had it!"

Uncomfortable with the way in which the direction the conversation was taking, Troy reluctantly shook his head. "I'm with you."

All eyes turned to the dark haired youth.

An evil smile pulled at the corners of Aaron's mouth. "Why wait till tomorrow?"


	8. Chapter 8

With her father away on business in San Francisco, Betty Allman took advantage of his absence to invite Zeke Dayton into her home. While Zeke was known for his short fuse so was her father. There were several occasions when she'd been on the receiving end of both men's temper tantrums but as long as she steered clear and did as she was told, they left her alone. She believed they loved her in their own ways and that was all that mattered to her. Zeke had even promised to marry her whether her father gave his permission or not. As they lived in sin she held on to that promise, afraid to lose Zeke if she didn't. Though she knew her decision cost her her dignity, she didn't think there was anything she wouldn't do for the man she loved. She just wished people would understand, especially her father.

As she lay in her bed, snuggled in Zeke's strong arms and listening to his heart beating a steady rhythm, Betty could've sworn she heard a noise downstairs that sounded like glass breaking. A thump startled her and with a gasp she sat up and tried to rouse Zeke.

"Hmm? What?" Zeke mumbled, his eyes still partially closed.

"There's someone downstairs!" Betty whispered urgently. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would leap out of her ribcage.

Zeke immediately acted. He threw away the covers and bolted out of bed. He quickly pulled on his trousers and shirt then drew out his gun from the holster he'd hung over a chair. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling Betty to stay in the bedroom and to remain silent. Tucking his pistol into the waist band of his trousers, he lit the lantern on the bedside table and carried it with him while he carefully turned the door knob in his other hand. Walking out into the hallway, Zeke left a frightened Betty behind.

With his pistol drawn and cocked the young man crept down the creaking staircase. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he tripped over what could only have been tripwire placed deliberately across the last step. He dropped the lantern and fell hard on all fours, his gun going off as it hit the floor. A vase shattered from the bullet's impact. Before he could rise to his feet, something collided heavily with the back of his head and everything went black.

* * *

Betty flinched when she heard a shot coming from downstairs shortly after a dull thud. Trembling from head to toe, she climbed out of bed and put on her robe then felt her way toward the door. She pulled it open then used the wall to guide her toward the stairs. Step by step, she descended the staircase, holding on to the banister and breathing unsteadily as a rising panic took hold. When she reached the bottom, she could make out the outline of a body lying on the floor between her and the front door which was wide open. She knelt down and could see by the moonlight that filtered through the doorway that the prone body was that of her beloved. A sob rose from deep in her throat as she used all her strength to turn him over onto his back. "Zeke? Zeke! Please wake up. Zeke!" She shook him by the shoulders hard but he remained unmoving. Just a lifeless shell. Betty buried her face against his chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Where his heart had been beating earlier, the only sound she could now hear was her own anguish as pain filled sobs wracked through her, threatening to tear her apart.

* * *

The sun rose, staining the sky in its orange hue and bathing the land with its warm glow. Griff guided his horse into the stable then headed for the bunkhouse to change his clothes. He'd taken a dip in the lake that morning before riding back to the ranch. Although he was feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep, his stomach growled with hunger pangs but he figured it was probably too late to ask Hop Sing for some breakfast. As he entered the ranch hands' sleeping quarters, the young man was greeted by Lucas and Jake.

"Morning, Griff," Lucas yawned. He'd just finished tugging on his boots. "Say, where were you last night? You never came back from your ride into town. Jake and I had a wager goin' on, ya see."

"What kinda wager?" Griff asked curiously, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Lucas exchanged a toothy grin with Jake who gave Griff a sly wink. "We was wonderin' if ya found yerself a new friend. A  _lady_  friend, that is."

Griff raised his eyebrows and shook his head, however, he couldn't stop himself from blushing at the mere thought of himself being in the company of a lady under intimate circumstances. "Well, unless you count the bugs I slept with, whoever placed their bet on me being in the company of a lady will have lighter pockets."

Lucas and Jake's laughter were joined in chorus by the others who were listening in on the conversation.

A series of friendly banters followed, allowing Griff to forget about the events of the previous day.

"Mr. Cartwright's goin' into town with Joe this mornin' so we have to make a good start on breakin' them new horses that came in yesterday," Lucas filled Griff in on their duties. Since Candy was away and Joe had to go into town, the Cartwrights had left Lucas in charge for the day.

"Sounds good to me," said Griff as he shrugged out of his shirt and pulled on a fresh one.

"Hey Jake! Since I lost that wager this mornin', I might just make you a new one. I'll wager Griff will break Tornado faster than he did Dynamite!" Lucas challenged.

"Tornado? I can't believe ya already started namin' 'em. Alright, you're on!" Jake sealed the deal by shaking Lucas's hand.

"Hey, what about me? Don't I get a say in this?" Griff pretended to be put out.

"That depends. How much are you bettin' kid?" a ranch hand by the name of George quipped. He gave Griff a hearty slap on the back and laughed out loud.

"You guy are really somethin' you know that?" Griff smirked.

"Come on, boys, let's go. We got a lotta work to get done today!" Lucas urged the group to make haste.

Griff began to follow the others out of the bunkhouse when the appearance of the Marshall's associate dampened his spirits once again.

"Morning, boys," Mr. Howard greeted the ranch hands who filed out of the bunkhouse.

Griff drew a deep breath and hoped to be ignored, however, the older man stepped forward and barred his way. The young ranch hand looked past Mr. Howard to see if he could catch someone's attention, but they'd already disappeared around the building to carry out their duties. Straightening up to his full height, Griff wanted to give the appearance that he was not intimidated.

Mr. Howard on the other hand could sense the youth's unease and he decided to capitalize on that. He continued to press forward, forcing Griff to step back through the doorway.

"Mr. McCoy as some questions he'd like to ask you. Why don't we start with where you were last night?" Mr. Howard interrogated.

"Well, you can tell Mr. McCoy that I'll answer his questions when he cares to ask them himself," Griff replied, unable to contain his sarcasm. He kept his eyes locked on Mr. Howards, but the man wore an unreadable mask.

"I'll be sure to pass on your message. In the meantime, I'd mind your manners, boy," Mr. Howard threatened.

"It's Mr. King or Gri-"

Mr. Howard's hands shot forward and grabbed fistfuls of Griff's shirt then swung the young man face first against the door frame.

Griff's mouth and chin connected sickeningly with the wooden edge. His vision spun and his mouth filled with a metallic tasting substance. He swayed and fell to his knees in a daze. He coughed and spat out the blood that had started to accumulate in his mouth. Reaching up, he held the back of his hand against his lips which were numb to the touch.

Mr. Howard crouched down so that he was eye level with Griff. "You listen to me, boy. I'm keeping a close eye on you. You take one step out of line and I'll know about it. Next time I ask ya a question, you better be more cooperative or things are going to get mighty uncomfortable for ya."

As much as Griff wanted to retaliate, he refrained. Once again, Candy's voice of reason rang in his ears and he found himself wanting to direct that anger at his friend for not being there for him when he needed him. Glaring at his adversary, Griff would have let loose a few more choice words but his swollen lips weren't cooperating.

"My mother always told me that if you can't say something nice then don't say anything at all. I'm glad to see you're finally taking some sound advice." Mr. Howard mocked. He straightened up then turned away and walked calmly out of the bunkhouse.

The anger bottled up inside Griff reached boiling point. He rose shakily to his feet and looked for a means in which to release it. Grabbing a nearby chair within his reach, he threw it against the wall then overturned the table, scattering the chess pieces all over the floor and upending the other chair in the process. With nothing else within his reach to break apart, he ran outside and headed straight for the stables when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Griff?" Lucas called out. "Hey, where ya going'?"


	9. Chapter 9

Mrs. Walters hung a closed for lunch sign at the door and locked the store. She had several errands to run in a short space of time and with no one to help her at the store, she had no choice but to close the business. Her first stop was the post office and then she needed to buy some groceries. As she stepped off the curb to cross the alley, she couldn't help over hear raised voices to her right. Not wanting to pry in someone else's business, she refrained from turning her head but kept walking. Unfortunately the argument had already spilled into the alley.

"I'm just sayin' that maybe ya shouldn't have killed Zeke. Who know's what Betty's been tellin' the sheriff about us," one of the two young cowboys said.

"Well she better not be mouthin' about us or she'll be joinin' him!" A second voice argued.

Mrs. Walters wished she had not heard the conversation but it was too late to turn back or cross the street. She just had to keep going as if she had been day dreaming and pray for the best.

Aaron quickly gestured for Troy to keep silent as they watched Mrs. Walters walk by them without a glance in their direction. Aaron instinctively started to follow the woman when Troy's hand gripped his arm, stopping him. "Wait! Leave her be. I don't think she paid any attention to us. She's always got her head stuck in the clouds." Troy hissed.

Aaron reluctantly slunk back into the shadows. "You better hope you're right."

Mrs. Walters' heart thudded in her chest as the ill-boding conversation replayed in her mind. She had recognized the voices and feared they had committed a heinous crime. Now she was faced with a responsibility that could endanger her life. She knew she had to do what she felt would be the right thing and that was to report the matter to the deputy. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, she maintained her pace at a casual stroll and entered the post office as planned. She collected her mail with trembling fingers from the clerk and avoided his concerned gaze.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Walters?" Mr. Avery asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course. It's silly really. I've not had anything to eat today. What, with so much to be done and all," Mrs. Walters laughed nervously then bade Mr. Avery a good day. As she made her way to the door, she peeked through the windows and breathed out a sigh of relief when there didn't appear to be anyone suspicious waiting for her outside. She hastily walked to the sheriff's office, almost tripping over the steps of the veranda.

Once inside the sheriff's headquarters, she shut the door behind her and stumbled over to where Deputy Clem Foster was standing.

"Whoah, Mrs. Walters, you're shaking like a leaf. Are you alright?" Clem asked with genuine concern. He had caught the woman by the shoulders and looked into her eyes which had misted over with tears of fear.

"Oh Clem! I've just heard….the most awful thing today. I don't know what to do! Please…" Mrs. Walters was now on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Let's go to my office," Clem said as he gently guided her by the elbow to the privacy of his office. He sat her down in front of his desk and poured her a glass of water. Perched on the edge of his desk, he waited for the distraught woman to calm down. "Let's start from the beginning. What's been troubling you so, hm?"

* * *

Mr. Howard's mistreatment of him coupled with his earlier fall out with Lucas weighing heavily on his mind, Griff's concentration lapsed to a dangerous level. His last attempt at breaking Tornado resulted in him almost being trampled under the horse's hooves. Only George's quick reflexes saved the young ranch hand from a fate neither wanted to comprehend. Fed up and annoyed with Griff's inability to focus on the task at hand, Lucas's hand latched on to the lanky youth's arm and he pulled him aside, away from the others.

Once they were outside of the enclosure, Lucas called back. "Frank, you're up next!" He then turned on Griff. "What're ya doin', tryin' to get yerself killed huh? If your head's not screwed on straight, then ya shouldn't be here."

"Fine, I'll leave!" Griff retorted breathlessly. A sharp pain shot through his side from his last fall but he refrained from clutching at the injury. He turned away from Lucas, his heart aching with the notion that he had just lost a friend.

Lucas reached out and grabbed a fistful of Griff's shirt then roughly yanked him backward. "I'm not done talkin'!"

Caught off guard, Griff gasped in pain and hunched over himself.

Lucas's anger mingled with concern when he saw the younger man was clearly in some kind of bother. He pulled at Griff's shirt and lifted it up to confirm his suspicion. While most of the bruises on Griff's body were fresh and probably were the result of being thrown from Tornado on more than one occasion that day, he could see an older bruise, the size of a man's fist planted low on the ranch hand's side. Between the suspicious looking injury and the newer one to Griff's face, Lucas was certain they were the results of someone beating on him and he was determined to find out who was behind the assaults. No matter how angry he was with Griff for his foolishness, he couldn't find it within himself to turn the other cheek when his friend was caught up in some kind of trouble. Even if Griff didn't care to admit it.

Griff shrugged himself out of Lucas's grasp, feeling humiliated for letting his guard down.

"If you're not gonna tell me who did it, then you're gonna have some explainin' to do to Mr. Cartwright," said Lucas lowering his voice.

"Leave it alone, Lucas. I don't need you or the Cartwrights to fight my battles!" Griff snapped, his temper flaring.

Lucas shook his head. He was at wits end. "This can't keep goin' on."

Griff drew a deep breath to reign in his anger, only to start coughing as his aching chest protested the action. "It won't." Raising an internal barricade to shield himself from Lucas's intrusive stare, he looked him in the eye, silently pleading for him to drop the issue.

Lucas nodded, though he was far from ready to let things go after what he had seen. "Clean yourself up. You're done for today." He wanted to add,  _I'll check in on you later_ , but he figured it would probably push the young man further into his shell.

Griff nodded in gratitude for being excused. Sullenly, he walked back to the ranch, feeling Lucas' eyes burning a hole through his back.


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs. Walters hung a closed for lunch sign at the door and locked the store. She had several errands to run in a short space of time and with no one to help her at the store, she had no choice but to close the business. Her first stop was the post office and then she needed to buy some groceries. As she stepped off the curb to cross the alley, she couldn't help over hear raised voices to her right. Not wanting to pry in someone else's business, she refrained from turning her head but kept walking. Unfortunately the argument had already spilled into the alley.

"I'm just sayin' that maybe ya shouldn't have killed Zeke. Who know's what Betty's been tellin' the sheriff about us," one of the two young cowboys said.

"Well she better not be mouthin' about us or she'll be joinin' him!" A second voice argued.

Mrs. Walters wished she had not heard the conversation but it was too late to turn back or cross the street. She just had to keep going as if she had been day dreaming and pray for the best.

Aaron quickly gestured for Troy to keep silent as they watched Mrs. Walters walk by them without a glance in their direction. Aaron instinctively started to follow the woman when Troy's hand gripped his arm, stopping him. "Wait! Leave her be. I don't think she paid any attention to us. She's always got her head stuck in the clouds." Troy hissed.

Aaron reluctantly slunk back into the shadows. "You better hope you're right."

Mrs. Walters' heart thudded in her chest as the ill-boding conversation replayed in her mind. She had recognized the voices and feared they had committed a heinous crime. Now she was faced with a responsibility that could endanger her life. She knew she had to do what she felt would be the right thing and that was to report the matter to the deputy. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, she maintained her pace at a casual stroll and entered the post office as planned. She collected her mail with trembling fingers from the clerk and avoided his concerned gaze.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Walters?" Mr. Avery asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course. It's silly really. I've not had anything to eat today. What, with so much to be done and all," Mrs. Walters laughed nervously then bade Mr. Avery a good day. As she made her way to the door, she peeked through the windows and breathed out a sigh of relief when there didn't appear to be anyone suspicious waiting for her outside. She hastily walked to the sheriff's office, almost tripping over the steps of the veranda.

Once inside the sheriff's headquarters, she shut the door behind her and stumbled over to where Deputy Clem Foster was standing.

"Whoah, Mrs. Walters, you're shaking like a leaf. Are you alright?" Clem asked with genuine concern. He had caught the woman by the shoulders and looked into her eyes which had misted over with tears of fear.

"Oh Clem! I've just heard….the most awful thing today. I don't know what to do! Please…" Mrs. Walters was now on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Let's go to my office," Clem said as he gently guided her by the elbow to the privacy of his office. He sat her down in front of his desk and poured her a glass of water. Perched on the edge of his desk, he waited for the distraught woman to calm down. "Let's start from the beginning. What's been troubling you so, hm?"

* * *

Mr. Howard's mistreatment of him coupled with his earlier fall out with Lucas weighing heavily on his mind, Griff's concentration lapsed to a dangerous level. His last attempt at breaking Tornado resulted in him almost being trampled under the horse's hooves. Only George's quick reflexes saved the young ranch hand from a fate neither wanted to comprehend. Fed up and annoyed with Griff's inability to focus on the task at hand, Lucas's hand latched on to the lanky youth's arm and he pulled him aside, away from the others.

Once they were outside of the enclosure, Lucas called back. "Frank, you're up next!" He then turned on Griff. "What're ya doin', tryin' to get yerself killed huh? If your head's not screwed on straight, then ya shouldn't be here."

"Fine, I'll leave!" Griff retorted breathlessly. A sharp pain shot through his side from his last fall but he refrained from clutching at the injury. He turned away from Lucas, his heart aching with the notion that he had just lost a friend.

Lucas reached out and grabbed a fistful of Griff's shirt then roughly yanked him backward. "I'm not done talkin'!"

Caught off guard, Griff gasped in pain and hunched over himself.

Lucas's anger mingled with concern when he saw the younger man was clearly in some kind of bother. He pulled at Griff's shirt and lifted it up to confirm his suspicion. While most of the bruises on Griff's body were fresh and probably were the result of being thrown from Tornado on more than one occasion that day, he could see an older bruise, the size of a man's fist planted low on the ranch hand's side. Between the suspicious looking injury and the newer one to Griff's face, Lucas was certain they were the results of someone beating on him and he was determined to find out who was behind the assaults. No matter how angry he was with Griff for his foolishness, he couldn't find it within himself to turn the other cheek when his friend was caught up in some kind of trouble. Even if Griff didn't care to admit it.

Griff shrugged himself out of Lucas's grasp, feeling humiliated for letting his guard down.

"If you're not gonna tell me who did it, then you're gonna have some explainin' to do to Mr. Cartwright," said Lucas lowering his voice.

"Leave it alone, Lucas. I don't need you or the Cartwrights to fight my battles!" Griff snapped, his temper flaring.

Lucas shook his head. He was at wits end. "This can't keep goin' on."

Griff drew a deep breath to reign in his anger, only to start coughing as his aching chest protested the action. "It won't." Raising an internal barricade to shield himself from Lucas's intrusive stare, he looked him in the eye, silently pleading for him to drop the issue.

Lucas nodded, though he was far from ready to let things go after what he had seen. "Clean yourself up. You're done for today." He wanted to add,  _I'll check in on you later_ , but he figured it would probably push the young man further into his shell.

Griff nodded in gratitude for being excused. Sullenly, he walked back to the ranch, feeling Lucas' eyes burning a hole through his back.


	11. Chapter 11

Bone weary and feeling utterly miserable, Griff kicked at the clumps of loose dirt as he trudged back to the stables. If his company and help wasn't wanted by Lucas and the other hands then at least the horses mightn't object. Just as he reached the door, a hand landed on his shoulder and he spun away out of reflex.

"Whoah! Easy there, Griff," Joe Cartwright chuckled. "What's gotten you so spooked today?" The laughter died on his lips when he saw the markings on Griff's face. "Rough day breakin' them horses?"

Griff nodded. "Yeah, I just….um…you're back early."

"Yeah, Pa's still in town. He's got a few more things to take care of but I figured I better get the paperwork for the new horses ready. Mr. Litterman is picking them up in a week and I'm heading over to Carson City day after tomorrow," Joe explained then when he noticed the faraway look in the young man's eyes, he added, "You alright, Griff?"

Griff shook his head to clear it of its musings. "Yeah, just tired, is all."

"Let's go to the house. I'll fix us a drink and your pay for the week. Whaddya say huh?" Joe gave the younger man a friendly slap on the arm.

"Sure," Griff replied as he followed Joe up to the main house.

When they reached the front door, a cart could be heard riding toward the house. Their initial reaction was to turn around and greet the visitors. Joe walked up to where the cart was pulling in while Griff lagged behind when he saw who it was riding on the cart. Marshall McCoy. Not far behind was none other than Mr. Howard, perched in his saddle.

Griff decided it was his cue to leave as he watched Joe conversing with McCoy. He turned to walk away quietly when Joe called out his name.

"Griff? Hey Griff! The Marshall wants to talk to you for a minute!" Joe called out then turned to face McCoy once again. "So what's this all about?"

"I just need to ask the boy a few questions is all. I know you're busy. This won't take long," McCoy pleasantly but firmly insisted. He climbed down from the cart and followed Joe to the front door where Griff stood waiting nervously.

"Let's go inside. I'll make some tea. Hop Sing's in town getting some supplies for the pantry," Joe invited both men into the house then left them alone so they could have some privacy. The Marshall's manner and tone didn't give him a reason to think that whatever he had to ask Griff was of a serious nature.

Griff started pacing in front of the lawman, his blue eyes fixated on the empty space ahead of him. He refused to look the Marshall in the eye, his gut clenching with anxiety.

McCoy studied the boy for a moment before he said, "Why don't you sit down. You're making me nervous."

Griff stopped his pacing and turned to face McCoy. "Say what you gotta say, Marshall. I've got places to be!"

"Is that so? Where've you gotta be, boy?" McCoy leered. "Your gang's hideout perhaps?"

"I don't know what ya talkin' about," Griff responded. His palm were beginning to sweat. He wiped them on his pants. He wasn't at all comfortable with where the conversation was heading but there was little he could do to stop it. Once again, Candy's voice echoed in his head.  _Just cooperate._

"You don't, do you? Where were you last night and the night before last?" McCoy interrogated. His tone darkened.

"I was sleeping!" Griff snapped.

"Where?"

"Bunkhouse night before last. You can check with the guys."

"And last night?"

"Under the stars."

"I don't suppose the squirrels can vouch for ya?"

Griff gave a theatrical shrug and a smirk. "Guess you'll have to ask 'em." Beneath the sarcasm, the ranch hand feared for what was to come. His heart thudded hard and fast in his chest, threatening to break free.

"Then I guess you'll be comin' with me to the sheriff's office." McCoy moved forward as Griff stepped back.

Joe returned from the kitchen with a tray laden with porcelain cups, sugar and a pot of tea. Seeing the tension and hearing the raised voices, he quickly settled the tray down on the nearest table. Jamie had chosen that moment to hurry down stairs to investigate what all the commotion was about. Joe caught the youngster by the shoulders and motioned for him to stay put by the staircase, ignoring his questioning look.

McCoy made a grab for Griff who stepped out of his reach and shoved the Marshall away.

The lawman lost his balance and fell onto the sofa. He bounded back up to his feet and reached for his gun. "Hold it right there!" He commanded threateningly.

"Hey, what's going on?" Joe called out as he lunged forward and stepped between the Marshall and Griff.

Jamie watched the scene, confused and afraid. He started to edge forward, wanting desperately to help diffuse the situation but not knowing quite how he was going to intervene without making matters worse. He chewed his lower lip, battling an inner struggle.

"Out of my way, Joe!" McCoy growled, wrestling his way past Joe. He drew out his pistol but Joe grappled for control of the weapon.

Griff took advantage of the distraction to escape out the front door but the sound of a shot being fired stopped him. At first he thought the bullet had found its mark but he felt no pain and he was still standing and breathing. It was Joe's anguished cry, however, that pierced his heart and froze him to the core.

" _Jamie!"_


End file.
